A/N: There are many firsts involved with this fic: My first SPN fic. My first slash fic. My first fic with dark/mature themes. Needless to say I am nervous. Be gentle :P Also, don't expect sex. Author is asexual and very grossed out by the whole process.

The Slushee machine was mocking him.

Dean stared at the red liquid dripping slowly into the grille, mingling with a puddle of melted raspberry flavor Slushee. The liquid could have just been melted cherry flavor, if not for the smell. Dean knew blood when he smelled it.

"Agent Simmons?" the Sheriff said, breaking the hypnotic power of the blood. Dean wondered how long he'd been staring at the Slushee machine.

"My guys pulled up the surveillance footage, we can run it back at HQ."

"Great," Dean said. "Let's go."

"We're not comin' with you," the man stated tiredly. "Got another crime scene to check out. Girl freakin' exploded right on school property, ya believe that? Folks'll be thinkin' their kids aren't safe to leave the house."

Dean gave a distracted smile. That would be the case he was supposed to be working. "That's, uh, not my specialty. I'm strictly missing persons."

"Right, yeah, of course. Well, you go right on down to HQ; they're expectin' ya."

"Thank you, Sheriff."

The man gave a good-natured laugh. "Thank you for taking this off my plate."

"No problem." Suddenly, Dean needed Sam very badly. He bid the Sheriff goodbye and walked briskly back to the Impala. Once inside, he speed-dialled his brother as he started the car. Sam answered just as Dean was pulling out of the Gas-N-Sip parking lot.

"Let me guess, you need me to research something for your case?"

"Nope," he replied, already going 15 above the speed limit.

"So did something-"

"Sammy, shut up and listen!" Dean hissed as he ran a stop sign.

"Okay, geez! What crawled up your butt and died?"

Dean swallowed. "It's Cas."

Sam, finally sensing his brother's distress, skipped past the oh-so-obvious joke about Cas being up Dean's butt, and instead asked, "Is he okay?"

"I don't know, man." Someone honked at him, and Dean was too distraught to even give the guy the finger.

"What do you mean, you don't- Okay, start from the beginning. You went to visit Cas?"

Dean managed to breathe through the increasing tightness in his chest. "Yeah. At the Gas-N-Sip, where he works."

"And did you see him?" Sam had that almost-too-patient voice he often used with grieving relatives, complete with the tone that Dean always found obnoxiously patronizing. He didn't have the energy to care right now.

"No. There were police."

"Police?" Sam prompted.

"Outside. Inside. Looking at, um, tire tracks and security footage. I think they were dusting the counter for fingerprints. I, uh, flashed my badge and asked what was goin' on, and they said they got a call when a customer walked in and there was no cashier."

"Cas is missing," Sam realized.

"Yeah, the money was taken from the register, a few of the aisles were ransacked, and th-there was blood."

"Oh, God," Sam groaned. "How much blood? Is it Cas's?"

"Not a lot, and I have no idea. I'm on my way to see the surveillance footage now."

"Do you think this has to do with the case?"

"I dunno. All the vics exploded, completely splattered their surroundings. Nothing like that here."

"Have you tried calling him?" Sam inquired.

"Didn't have to. His phone was left by the register."

Dean screeched into the parking lot, knowing the only reason he hadn't gotten enough speeding tickets to wallpaper his room was because of how stretched thin the police forces were at the moment.

"I'm here. Call you after I see the footage."

"But-" Dean hung up. He practically sprinted into the building, looking wild-eyed at the receptionist as he flashed his badge.

The receptionist- George, according to his nametag- smiled pleasantly. "Agent Simmons. I was told to expect you. Right this way."

Dean nodded and pretended to pay attention as George explained how to work the computer, but all Dean heard was his brain's constant mantra. WhathappenedtoCaswhathappenedtoCaswhathappenedtoCas?

"Alright, I'll let you get to it." George said cheerfully. Dean waited for him to leave the room and then lunged into the chair, trying to access the proper file with shaking hands. A grainy image of Cas came onscreen. Dean could barely breathe as he watched the fallen angel contentedly skimming through a Gossip Magazine with the headline: Brangelina to Swap Genders? The Shocking TRUE Story! He licked his finger as he turned the page, looking absolutely fascinated by his chosen reading material. That small second, which somehow perfectly represented Cas, made Dean's heart scream with pain. It felt like the organ was now comprised of jagged edges, which carved ruthlessly into his lungs. And then the door opened.

Cas looked up and smiled politely. After a moment, his smile turned to a look of confusion, complete with his patented head-tilt. The newcomers were shown in profile, but Dean saw with a sinking heart that they were wearing masks. So much for a quick identification. Cas, who was much worldlier than he used to be, seemed to suspect the men's intent, but maintained a calm expression.

Until the guns came out.

For a second, his eyes narrowed with indignation- not completely wrathful, but a potent look nonetheless. That was his smiting face. Dean could tell the exact millisecond Cas remembered his newfound vulnerability. He continued to look unintimidated, but Dean knew Cas, maybe even better than he knew Sam, and he could see the worry in his taut frame.

He took a half-step back as the guns were pointed at his chest, and then the man was saying something. Did the damn camera not even have audio? Stupid small towns and their stupid cheap security! When the man finished speaking, Cas gave a small nod. The two robbers seemed to relax slightly, and the second one walked back outside. Meanwhile, the first leaned in close to Cas as he spoke. Cas, who normally had no personal space issues whatsoever, shied back from the man subtly, which was sort of the Castiel version of cowering.

The second guy came back in with a third robber, and they began pillaging the food aisle. Seeing Cas's awkward standoff with the first guy, he shouted something which caused the man to lean back and gesture at the cash register with his gun. Cas fumbled the drawer open and deposited the money in an undignified heap on the counter. The man shoveled it into a bag and then passed it on to one of the other two, who were making their way outside with at least a week's worth of snacks. For a brief moment, Dean's stomach gurgled, but for once he didn't feel hungry; he felt sick.

The first guy was apparently trying to make small talk, which Cas wasn't adept at under normal circumstances. Without even hearing his friend's speech, Dean could tell he was being unbearably awkward. Instead of becoming annoyed or disinterested, the man seemed to laugh good-naturedly. Somehow, that worried Dean more than the gun in his hand. Pushing back from where he was leaning on the counter, the robber gestured for Castiel to come out from behind it. Cas shook his head and then froze when the man aimed the gun directly at his heart, all traces of good humor gone. Slowly, reluctantly, Cas made his way over to the man. One of the other robbers stormed back inside and gave Cas a sharp shove, causing him to stagger back and crack his head against the Slushee machine. As Cas slid to the floor dazedly, the two men were having an energetic argument. The first guy seemed to do most of the talking, complete with elaborate hand gestures that did nothing to aid Dean's comprehension of the argument, and finally, the other man relented. The first guy walked over to Cas with a smug smile on his face and hauled him up by the arm. He whispered something that made Cas look confused and then shepherded him out the door. And just like that, Castiel was gone.